Shaken
by OnYourLeft107
Summary: Set during the Avengers' Civil War, Steve and Bucky struggle with their situation while regaining their playful friendship from times past. After Sam goes missing, the two set out to track him, only to be attacked by Hydra in the process. Bucky is taken, and SPUTNIK is initiated. Steve joins Sharon and Team Cap as they attempt to rescue their friend from the clutches of Hydra.
1. Chapter 1

It was late when the rain finally subsided; not a star dared to shine through the pitch-black clouds. Only a couple street lights cast a dim, yellowy glow on the saturated sidewalk. The air was dense with mist and there was a nervous feel about the lonely, deserted city street. He was unbearably drawn to the figure in black walking away.

Steve rushed after him. "Bucky!" he pleaded, "Buck, please! We can work this out!" His voice echoed away and was swallowed into the stillness.

The obscure figure only quickened his pace as he ignored his friend, the words falling on deaf ears. Steve saw the glint of a blade as Bucky stared at his wrist, his hand shaking.

"Bucky, don't!" begged the man, his throat tightening. He grabbed cloaked arm in desperation. "Bucky-"

The shadow whipped around, startling his follower. Steve could feel the venomous anger seeping out of him as in one blurred movement he ran the knife across Steve's bare arm and thrust it into his side. Steve let out a cry of pain, crumpling to his knees as Bucky pulled the blade out and turned away, leaving without a backward glance.

* * *

Steve woke up in a cold sweat, the nightmare sending chills down his spine and injecting a stinging pain into his already-worn mind. It wasn't the first nightmare he'd had by a long shot, but the first intense one he'd had in quite a while.

Slowly, the soldier sat up and surveyed his surroundings, reminding himself the scene wasn't real. It couldn't be. Could it? No, it didn't make sense. He glanced over at Bucky, who was wrapped in his sleeping bag a few feet away, having a seemingly peaceful night's rest. _He's fine_. _I'm fine. It was just an illogical, stupid dream. But it was so real...No._ He shook his head. _No. It didn't happen._ He frowned at his trembling hand and ran his hand through his hair. A weak smile passed over Steve's face. _Well, at least one of us will get a decent amount of sleep tonight. That's good. He deserves it._

Making barely a sound, Steve rose, grabbed his pencil and sketchbook, and walked a little ways, sitting on the floor in a square of moonlight that filtered from a window in the dusty rafters of the abandoned warehouse. He let out a sigh and loosened the tension in his shoulders. The veteran wouldn't be able to sleep again until the vivid image had faded enough to no longer disturb him so much. And drawing...drawing usually calmed him down, cleared his mind, stopped the shaking. He was fine. He just had to think of happy memories.

He began to sketch their old town of Brooklyn, and was just finishing some detail work when his strokes slowed and his vision began to dim until….

"Steve." Bucky nudged his friend's arm with his foot. "It's past ten."

The blonde looked up groggily from his curled up position on the cement floor. "Hmm…?" he grunted, rubbing his eyes.

"Get up, punk."

"You're a jerk for waking me up so early. I mean, among other reasons," he joked, sitting up and running his hand through his shaggy hair. _Haven't had time for a haircut in awhile_ … _or a shave, for that matter_ , he thought, rubbing his stubbly chin. Bucky could pull off the caveman look pretty well. Him? Not so much.

"Nightmares again?" asked Bucky, picking up the open sketchbook that had slid a little ways away.

"Yeah," breathed Steve, the memory of the dream etching itself in his mind. "Yeah." He wasn't gonna tell Buck about this one. Not for awhile, at least. He could hardly think about it himself - why bother him with another burden?

"This is pretty good," remarked Bucky, examining the scene Steve had sketched the previous night.

"Thanks-"

"Except the bank was on the opposite side of the street."

"What? No it wasn't," replied Steve, looking up at his friend with a questioning smile.

"I'm pretty sure it was, actually," argued Bucky, scratching his head.

"I _distinctly_ remember it being on your left if you were walking home from school. 'Cause it was next door to Smith's Grocery and Mrs. Eddison would always come out with too many bags and I'd have to help her carry them to her Volkswagen."

Bucky threw his hands up, chuckling. "Okay, okay! I believe you."

Steve made a face at him. "You knew it all along, didn't you? You just wanted to see how I'd remember in case you'd find something to tease me about."

"Now, why would I do a thing like that?" asked Bucky innocently, handing the sketchbook back to Steve.

"For payback," muttered the soldier. A mischievous gleam entered his eye. "You're still caught up in me mentioning Annie and Grace to Nat, aren't you-"

"Oh, shut up," growled Bucky with an annoyed pout.

"I was _right_ ," chimed Steve with a grin.

Bucky began walking away. "Don't rub it in," he mumbled. "I was nice and responsible this morning, unlike _someone,_ and I made breakfast."

Steve raised his eyebrows with a dubious expression. "You _made_ breakfast?"

"Well, did you expect me to hire a chef? Yes, I _made_ breakfast."

"Where in the world did you get all this stuff?" asked Steve, raising his eyebrows at the eggs and toast.

"Sam flew by this morning with groceries."

"And I suppose he provided a stove, too."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm not as much of an idiot as you think. You know the whole thing about how angling sunlight with convex glass creates heat?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well it turns out vibranium speeds up the process. Your shield is a pretty nifty frying pan. I just flipped it over for the toast."

"You did _what_ with my shield?!" Steve's eyes darted around the room for his priceless tool.

"Steve. It's _vibranium_. It's gonna be _fine_ ," assured the former assassin, sitting cross-legged and munching his toast. "It's not as if it hasn't been through worse. Besides, I even shined it up for ya afterwards. You're welcome."

The soldier let out an annoyed snort and proceeded to dig into breakfast. "You better ask next time," he grumbled.

"Steve, you're acting like it's cracked or something. Since when do you not share?"

The vet didn't exactly have an answer. After a few minutes of forking the eggs he cleared his throat and asked, "Is Sam dropping by anytime soon, or…?"

"He said he'd try to make it around dusk. I told him to bring burgers."

Steve smirked. "Now James, I hope you asked _politely_ ," he drawled, unable to resist a tease.

"I did, _mother_ ," reiterated Bucky, shaking his head at his buddy. "And I hope you remembered your unspoken commitment to clean up the dishes."


	2. Chapter 2

" _Red_? Why red? Why not blue? It's less noticeable," argued Steve, He and Bucky were planning to "borrow" a car so they could find Sam. They'd lost communication with him the night before, and they needed to check the designated meeting places. (Also, Bucky was mad he hadn't gotten burgers for dinner.)

"We're thirty miles away from any of the meeting spots and instead of making it quick and getting on with it all, you had to settle down and argue about colors for the last half hour. It's not as if there are many choices, either," complained Steve, resting his head on his knuckle.

"Well the car colors at that old place were boring. And all those trucks were ancient."

"Buddy, we're ancient too."

"Yeah, but we don't get horrible mileage. Why don't we borrow that bright green charger parked at the mansion down the road?"

"Are you kidding me? They'd spot us in a heartbeat!"

"Fine," sighed the assassin in disappointment. "I always wanted to drive one of those things. Well, I've heard it said that red is actually a calming color," he continued, surveying the only other option - a car lot that was largely dominated by crimson SUVs and pickups. "Besides, HYDRA will be less likely to question it, and if there's any of _them_ around, we'll be able to sneak by."

"But that's only a theory."

"Which one of us worked for them for seventy years?" said Bucky with a _point proven_ look.

"It could also make us stand out and get killed faster," insisted Steve, crossing his arms.

Bucky waved him off. "Yeah, well, it's also my favorite color," he said with a completely straight face. "So _there_."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if we get caught, it's your fault," he warned, walking from the trees they were sitting under to the dealer across the street. He approached one of the trucks and pried the door open. After a few minutes of hot-wiring the engine rumbled to life. Steve poked his head out the window and nodded at Bucky to hop in. "Let's get this show on the road."


	3. Chapter 3

Steve slowed the rusty red pickup to a halt in front of a sagging, boarded-up barn. It was the last hiding spot they could check - all the rest were empty or destroyed.

"What do we do if he's not here, Steve?" asked Bucky quietly, pulling out his pistol and cocking it. He put one hand on the door handle as he waited for his companion to make a move.

Steve stared at the steering wheel in a half-conscious daze. The possibility of losing one of the few friends he had left was...mind-numbing. He shook his head and pulled out his shield from the backseat. "I don't know," he said softly. "But he will be."

As the two approached the secluded structure, a familiar face appeared in the doorway and the Falcon began walking towards them.

"Sam," breathed Steve. "Thank God." But as they grew closer Steve could sense that something was off - Sam was smiling...but his eyes weren't.

With a jolt Bucky saw the nose of the sniper rifle pointing out the window, aiming at his chest. In a frantic voice he started, "Steve, it's a tra-"

But the soldier had noticed it before his friend, and in a single movement he shoved his shield into Bucky's hands and pushed him to the ground. "Get down!"

"Steve! Watch-"

But it was too late. In helpless agony, Bucky watched as his best friend took the three shots meant for him, before crumpling to ground, motionless and silent.

* * *

Steve's vision blurred to color, accompanied by an excruciating pain in his stomach and ribs. Every labored breath he took was a raw struggle. As his sight came into focus, he saw blood pooling on the wood floor beside him. He assumed it was his own. His hands were tightly shackled around the post behind him, forcing him into an uncomfortable sitting position, and not even allowing him to use his hands to put pressure on his wounds. If he didn't stem the bleeding soon...he might not make it.

Sam turned his head as he heard Steve's groan, guilt and regret putting tears in his eyes. "Cap...I'm so sorry. They took Sharon, and I did what I thought you'd want. They promised not to shoot-"

"Shut up!" barked a HYDRA guard, knocking the air out of him with a forceful kick. Sam coughed and lowered his head, his fists tightened in anger.

Steve's head throbbed as he turned, trying to locate Bucky or Sharon. "It's...okay…." he managed to get out. "But...where's…." He clenched his teeth and let out a shuddering breath. The prisoner felt his mind slipping away before he could even finish his question.

The rhythmic beat of the monitor pulled Steve into consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he was greeted by Sharon's alleviated smile.

"Oh, Steve," she gasped, a tear rolling down her cheek as she squeezed his hand. "Don't scare me like that!"

"You're safe," replied the man, letting out a relieved sigh.

"But you're not," she whispered.

Sharon was right - Steve recognized the room as one in a SHIELD holding facility.

"How'd you get me in here?" he asked hoarsely, dread overcoming his momentary relief.

"It's not as if they could let you bleed out on their doorstep. But, you're sort of under house arrest. Meaning, don't leave this room."

"Has the director been notified?"

Sharon lowered her voice. "That's my job...and no. He won't be, if I can help it. I'm at least going to delay it until you're stronger. I'd hate for you to be...well, y'know."

In a sudden flash, Steve recalled the last thing he remembered - Sam shackled across from him in the shady, dim-lit barn. Bucky wasn't in sight.

"Where are they?" He demanded, his gaze sharp and determined. He squinted his eyes shut. _Oh God, tell me they're not-_

"Sam's fine - just resting his bruised ribs in the next room over," she reassured.

"And Bucky?"

The woman hesitated. "We...I...couldn't convince the operative to search long enough to-"

"He's in the hands of HYDRA?!" cried Steve, his voice raising. "You let them take him?!"

"Steve, you were dy-"

"You should've left me to die!" he shouted, clenching his fists in fury, his eyes tearing up in despair. "They'll destroy everything we've accomplished! How do we even know if he's still alive?"

"Steve...we don't. I tried to convince them to stay but I have almost no authority anymore! I told them you'd be angry-"

"That they put more value on me than him? Because I'm a strategic pawn and

He's too far damaged? I'm a heck of a lot more than angry!" The man ignored the pain as he ripped the covers off the hospital cot and the IVs and monitors out of his arms. He pulled his jeans on and ignored the fact he had a hospital gown for a shirt, glancing around the room for his shield. But then he remembered he had given it to Bucky.

"Steve, don't you _dare_ leave! You're not ready - you'll get yourself killed! I'll get a team together to find him-"

Steve punched the glass out of the room's single window and climbed out, grateful it was a ground-level floor. Every step he took was agonizingly painful, but for Bucky? He'd rather die than let them brainwash his friend again. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

"Steve, wait!" pleaded Sharon, realizing he wouldn't settle for anything less than going after the captive himself. She sprinted over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'll give you a lift."

"That won't be necessary," interjected Sam, appearing behind them, fully decked out in his suit. "I heard you from next door and figured you'd need a ride." He spread his wings as Steve began to protest. "I got you into this mess, I'm gonna get you out."

Sharon crossed her arms. "I'm coming with you."

"Fine," consented Steve, unhappy that his friends were involved in something dangerous with him. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk them out of it. "We're gonna need some guns…." He shrugged at Sam. "And a bigger ride."


	4. Chapter 4

_SPUTNIK_. The word echoed in his empty mind, clawing around for an escape, screaming to get out. What...what did it mean? It was so familiar...yet...so distant. He couldn't grasp what it signified...couldn't remember who had said it...or why. Something important was missing...in its place, a clouded understanding of who he was. He wasn't sure why, but he was supposed to be...fighting? Eliminating threats. Threats of world security.

 _Your work has been a gift to mankind. You've shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time._ Yes. Yes! That was it. The missing piece. He was a gift to mankind. A _hero_. Pierce had told him that. Believed in him. Supported him. _Loved_...him? Had he? He must've. Else he wouldn't have given himself up to the American bastard for the cause.

The man clenched his metal hand into a fist, the image of his leader's death sending a surge of anger through his mind. _He'll pay…._

And all of a sudden, there it was. _The Winter Soldier_. The words resurfaced in his mind. Yes. That was his name. His title. He was a soldier. The greatest asset the world would ever have against pain and suffering. The American government complained he had damaged their plans. Idiots! Didn't they know or understand that sacrifices must be made to obtain the greater good? If eliminating rebels that would cause havoc and chaos was necessary for the peace of the people, wasn't it worth it? Rebels and troublemakers corrupt society. They cause more pain and suffering than their deaths entail. Men like that don't deserve to live. Men like...Captain America.

He spat at the thought of the so-called "hero." Liar! He claimed to support freedom when the only thing he did was enslave the people with deceit and false hope of the peace his twisted morals would bring.

 _He deserves death._

There was never a thought clearer in the soldier's mind. The man called a "symbol," a "light to the nations," an "example of bravery and courage" - under all that, what was he? He needed to be exposed for what he really was: Torn down from his throne of lies, he was really a symbol of failure. He deserved to die. And now, it was The Winter Soldier's newfound duty to see to exactly that. Anyone who got in the way - well, they deserved it too. It was time the old man in stars and stripes retired - permanently.

Zemo clicked down the hallway, recieving updates from Rumlow every once in a while over coms. "How is he taking the briefing?"

"Better than was expected, Baron. It was an excellent move to use SPUTNIK on him - now, as far as we can tell, he doesn't remember a thing about his past or his name."

"You'll learn my plans rarely fail, Rumlow. But what of the Captain does he remember? Less than I, I hope?"

"Much less, sir. He knows of his existence, of his crimes, and nothing more. No association, no names, no feelings toward him besides a death wish." Rumlow smirked as he gazed through the glass windows around the briefing room, watching their asset as he was reduced to a dog at their heels.

"Excellent indeed. Excuse the screaming in the background - we're merely playing with one of our insubordinate toys. He really was being a pain earlier."

"We've got one too many stubborn ones around here. At least, we _did._ Three men went through the chamber and the chair before the rest of the scum gave in." Rumlow gave an edgy smile as he watched his men prep their asset. "He's ready to kill, sir."

"Well, let's not spoil him while he's in the mood," came the answer over coms. "Get him jacked up and get him out as soon as possible. The sooner I see Roger's blood run, the sooner we can drink to our good health. And, mind you, I'm not referring to a pint of half-aged brandy. I'm suggesting we break open my personal stores."

"I look forward to it." Crossbones grinned. "Wouldn't mind seeing a little more red in the flag myself."


	5. Chapter 5

_"What'll you do if he's dead?" asked Tony quietly, eying his friend who was staring out the window, observing the new SHIELD trainees._

 _Steve showed little reaction to his question, but his friend could hear the masked anger in his voice. "Get the rest of the victims out and blow the place to the sky."_

 _"I thought you were gonna say personally assassinate his killer, but that seems fair too."_

 _"I wouldn't do it for revenge, Tony. I'd do it to prevent what happened to Bucky from happening to anyone else. No one deserves to go through what he did." The man shook his head and turned his gaze to the engineer. "Going and taking out one of those guys because of what they did to us is more than tempting, but how does it help? Sure, they're all in league with the Devil himself, but we'd be killing someone else's best friend. His buddies find out and then the cycle of revenge continues. Killing for revenge makes us just as bad as them." Steve shook his head. "It's not the answer."_

 _"So, you're saying blowing the entire base up and taking them all out is more morally justified?" Steve frowned as Tony shrugged and popped a blueberry into his mouth. "Hey, I'm just asking."_

 _"Sometimes you gotta make the hard call. I'm not saying every guy in there is bad to the bone and beyond hope of saving - there's a good chance a damn lot of them are brainwashed too. But the job doesn't leave a lot of room for mercy. I'd save every one of them and turn them to the truth if they would be turned. They all have - or had - families, Tony. They've got friends, they've got dreams. The problem is, those dreams have been taken over by HYDRA's nightmare. And as long as they side with the wrong set of morals, I can't protect them. They might be brainwashed, but most of them not forcibly, like Bucky. They gave in, they chose it for themselves. Maybe they were deceived, but Bucky was captured. That's the difference: Bucky resisted. He gave in when it was impossible to resist, but even then he fought back. He didn't give up, he didn't lose hope. He's stronger than that."_

 _Tony scoffed. "So that's why he's worth more? He's stronger? By that definition, you'd be dead in a back alley in the '40s, Rogers."_

 _The veteran's eyes hardened. "Look, war doesn't give second chances. Neither does HYDRA. But I do. Bucky was manipulated." Steve clenched his fist as he let out a heavy breath. "Don't you see that if he'd had a choice his history would be clean? HYDRA didn't give him that choice. I'm giving it to him now. It's called mercy, Tony. You've had your fair share."_

 _"Alright, old man, play it your way. But I can't promise I'll be in support. I deal with justice, not mercy."_

 _"By those rules, you'd be in prison for Ultron months ago. You can't go both ways." Steve switched his gaze to the floor, weighing his words carefully. "Look, when I see a situation headed south, I can't ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could."_

 _Tony clenched his easy expression into a curt smile. "Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth."_

 _"Then go ahead," replied the Captain with a smirk. "I've handled worse. But I'm not changing my mind. I've given you a second chance. Bucky deserves the same."_

"Screw it all," muttered Steve, thinking back on his conversation with Tony just months before. Back when they'd been friends...they still were...or they could be, if he would only listen….A lot of things had changed since then. Too many.

"Hey." Steve looked up to see Sam toss him a granola bar and take a seat across from him in the helicarrier. His friend let out a sigh and shook his head with a crooked grin. "Dude, I tried, but Sharon refused to get us some Chinese pickup on the way." His expression turned serious. "You don't know understand how much I could go for some egg rolls right now. And some of that sweet 'n' sour chicken. Man, that'd hit the spot."

 _What if he's dead?_ The question lingered and overshadowed Sam's lighthearted banter. When he realized his companion expected a response, Steve gave him a small grin and glanced down at his hands. They were ice-cold and pale. Averting his gaze up, he clenched his fists to end the shaking and tossed the snack back.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, frowning at the returned food.

"Just not hungry," shrugged his companion.

"I don't care if you're not hungry, you gotta eat somethin' before we go kick their HYDRA a-their HYDRA butts."

"Yeah, watch the language around Cap, Falc," chastised Sharon from the cockpit. "I can't believe you all sometimes," she muttered in pretend horror.

"I'll never hear the end of it," complained Steve with an irritated smile.

"Eat something, Steve," came her reply. "You'll be less grumpy."

"Fine." Sam tossed the granola bar back and he bit in, knowing he couldn't win this one.

"So, what's the plan, Cap?"

"Get Bucky out and attempt not to get killed in the process."

"Go figure. So I take it you're still coming up with one."

"Well, I'm pretty useless in this condition," muttered Steve, wincing as oncoming turbulence caused his seat to bounce, sending a sharp pain through his side.

Sam laughed. "I wouldn't call a guy with your brains and the best physique in the world useless. You're just in recovery. There's a big difference."

"Pfft. At this point, they seem the same."

"Yeah, well you'd have a lot to say if someone said that about Bucky, wouldn't you." Sam crossed his arms. It wasn't a question if he already knew the answer." Admit it, you're not being fair with yourself, Steve."

The blonde felt a wadded up wrapper hit his forehead. He looked up to see Sam's fond but challenging expression.

"Snap out of it. Let's go save our friend. You can pout about it later."


	6. Chapter 6

"Change of plans," Rumlow said, walking into the prep room where their asset was waiting for further instruction. "It seems our prey is coming to us - all the better. We won't have to hunt him down before we put a bullet in his head."

The assassin looked up with a cynical smile. "And who says I wanted to use a gun?" He nonchalantly spun a knife through his fingers, eying the hundreds of different instruments spread across the walls and tables. Each had its advantage, each inflicted its own breed of pain. Some were fatal, others were only meant for... _persuasion_. Most could cause death, but it all depended on your particular preferences concerning the amount of pain and length of departure. If his victim was coming here, he'd have more of an opportunity to test some of his less-used tactics. Normally, he'd get it over with as quickly as possible. But something had risen in him - a yearning, a hunger, a boiling hate for this "Captain America." Why he felt that way, he couldn't tell. But it was an ingrained part of his very being. Now, not only his death, but to see him suffer - only that could satisfy his unbounding rage.

"There are more interesting weapons than guns, Rumlow."

The agent raised his eyebrows with a pleasantly-surprised grin. "Whatever you prefer. He's almost here."


	7. Chapter 7

"There's absolutely no way," Sharon objected, switching the jet to autopilot and turning to the two men, her eyes coldly insistent. "We're turning back."

"No, we're not. I'm going in no matter what," Steve insisted, slipping a pistol and some extra ammo into his belt.

"You sure they know it's us?" Sam asked, replacing his shades with goggles.

"There's no way they don't." Sharon projected a 3D map based on the helicarrier's thermal scanner into the middle of the cargo area. They had taken the smallest one, more of a jet really, and it didn't have the latest and greatest tech. But it would have to suffice. She pointed to tiny figures scurrying around whose heat signatures showed up red. "Why else would they be arming extra guards and setting up missiles?"

"Maybe HYDRA's expecting some other unwelcome guests," suggested Sam.

"As much as I'd like to think that positively, it's a very unlikely coincidence. What I want to know is how they figured us out…." The pilot trailed off and shook her head, casting a firm gaze on Steve. "As much as Bucky means to all of us, going in now would be crazy. With our cover blown, we have nothing going for us - we're as good as dead."

"That's why I didn't want to bring you two with me. I knew it from the beginning. I don't care what you say, I'm going in. Alone."

"Steve, it's a suicide mission! We're outnumbered 100-1!" She crossed her arms. "We're all turning back and coming up with a better plan. I can't…I can't let you die out there. Not without us."

"Sharon, there is no better plan! This is our only chance. If we delay, we could be too late."

"Steve, you'll be shot as soon as-"

"You two? Maybe. But me? No. I'm a tool. I'm still useful in their little scheme. Even if they didn't have Bucky, you really think they'd wipe out their archenemy in one blow? You overestimate their compassion. No, they want my death to be as slow and painful as possible. With Bucky under their control, that means taking me to him." Steve slung the parachute onto his shoulders and began fastening the buckles. "If he's still himself, they'll have me killed in front of him. If he's wiped, they'll make him do it. Or, at least, that's how they want it to happen. After I know where he is, I'll find a way out - for both of us."

"And if you can't?" interjected Sam.

"Then I'll die trying." Steve clasped the last buckle and walked to the door of the aircraft.

Sam turned to Sharon and said in a low voice, "I don't think we're stopping him this time. We better call in backup - we both know he has no expectation of coming outta there alive."

Sharon let out a frustrated sigh and held up her phone. "I'm way ahead of ya, pal."


	8. Chapter 8

Steve stalked towards the back door of the seemingly-old factory building. Going by outward appearance, the building gave the impression that it wasn't any different from the other common structures in the area: relatively short - only a couple stories, sturdy cemented brick walls slightly cracked with age, and a few quite small square windows scattered across the sides. It was much wider than tall, and from what Steve could guess, there were probably many more floors harrowed underground if this HYDRA base was as well established as he thought. Fortunately for his mission, the building was surrounded by a thick, overgrown forest, and the nearest neighboring research plant was at least a few miles off. The location gave him the assurance, that if worst came to worst, only those in the immediate vicinity would get blown up. But Steve wasn't planning on setting off a bomb, not if he could help it. Though he had told them to stay a ways off, he knew Sharon and Sam were probably closer behind him than he'd like.

 _It was too easy_ , he thought, remembering his unhindered landing before he ripped off his parachute and made his way to the base. He paused to ready himself before barging in. _Those two are planning something, and if they get themselves killed in the process….God, just please don't let them do anything too impulsive or stupid,_ he prayed with a brief and urgent glance to the sky.

His opposite self answered with an internal smirk. _What, like you? Maybe if you start setting a good example they'll actually listen to you, Rogers._

 _Oh, for pete's sake!_ came the reply, _It's not as if I don't have good reasons._

 _And coming after you isn't a good reason?_

 _Not good enough._

Steve shut off the internal bickering and focused on his task. He took a quick glance around before snapping the lock and pushing open the door. There was a chance it would be the last time he ever saw the sun. The man slipped in and shut the door quietly behind him, his eyes darting around to detect any possible threats. The hallway was dead silent. Convenient. _Too_ convenient.

 _What, you're planning something too, Zemo?_ thought the soldier with an irritated smile. He began walking down the empty halls, his footfalls echoing softly as he went. He slowed as he neared the corner and heard voices, seeing in the window of a door the reflection of three armed guards.

 _Really? You're overrated, Baron. You could've at least made it_ _**fun**_ _._ Steve threw a smoke bomb around the corner and lowered a mask over his face. Amidst the coughing he heard someone let out a string of curses.

"Hey, language!" He knocked out the first with his gun handle and kicked the second in the gut, causing him to bash his head against the brick and fall unconscious. The third he disarmed and shoved against the wall.

The guard sneered. "A smoke bomb, ay? It's really not your style, Rogers."

"Well, maybe it's news to you, but I'm more than just a shield."

What's happening on that end? The feedback is going berserk, questioned a higher-up over the agent's earpiece.

Steve held his pistol to the man's head and said in low voice, "I think my battery's low, and our connections haven't been too clear all day. I'll turn it off for now and check in with you next shift." The guard stared at him hesitantly, and the soldier cocked the gun. His reply was promptly repeated.

Alright, well, if you run into anything before then, report back immediately.

"Yes, sir."

Steve pulled the com out of his prisoner's ear and ripped the cord off the man's jacket, throwing the earpiece to the floor and crushing it under the heel of his boot.

"Y'know, you'd seem like a decent guy if you weren't working for a cult of socialist miscreants," said Steve with a grim smile.

"I'd say thanks if the compliment was coming from someone other than a half-brained mascot."

"Well, at least I got some pretty swell cheerleading skills," Cap replied with a smirk, delivering a punch perhaps a little harder than he needed to. _He's gonna have one heck of a headache when he wakes up._


	9. Chapter 9

"No, Cassie, Daddy's gotta take this call," insisted Scott, giving his disappointed daughter an apologetic smile. "Tell you what - I'll take you out for ice cream tomorrow night, okay?"

The little girl gave him a pout and reluctantly stopped tugging his hand. "Pinky promise?" she asked, holding up her smallest finger.

"Pinky promise." Scott kissed her goodbye and slipped outside. "You better have a good reason for cancelling my ice cream outing with Cassie, Sam.

"Dude, Captain America needs our help. There's no better reason than that to jump back in."


	10. Chapter 10

The assassin aimed his machine gun at the wall target, his eyes narrowing. He'd been waiting too long. Why couldn't he just find the Captain himself? It would be faster, and he hadn't failed an assignment yet. He ground his teeth and emptied a round into the bullseye mark. Relaxing his stance for a moment, he observed his results, then aimed again.

And then he faltered.

A sudden haze weighed down on him, his hands trembling, his vision blurred. Confusion overcame him, accompanied by a slithering doubt. A name entered his mind: Steve. Steve? He didn't know anyone named Steve….

A man with a chilling expression entered, pistol in hand. The soldier realized that when he had lost his grip on his own weapon he must've mumbled the name aloud. Evidently it had _some_ significance, otherwise this man wouldn't have-

"Longing."

The assassin stumbled back as if some hidden force had knocked him down.

"Rusted."

No. Please stop.

"Seventeen."

The name wasn't important anymore. Not when a flood of other confusing images overcame his mind.

"Daybreak."

A sharp pain took over, drowning out the images for a moment.

"Furnace."

Screaming. New memories.

"Nine."

Memories he didn't want to remember.

"Benign."

Memories he couldn't-

"Homecoming."

The nameless man. The one he always wanted to protect-

"One."

Targets.

"Freight Car."

Unexplainable pain.

Men, women, even children - shot, stabbed, blown up, punched out, and scratched off the list. His heartbeat throbbed and his breathing panicked as memories of what happened when he failed to cooperate, memories of Pierce, Zola, and all those who had ever associated themselves with him took over. However small their concern for his wellbeing was, it was still there. At least, they dared to come near him, the monster that he was. So, something in him must've drawn them….What he'd done he'd been assigned for the betterment of the world.

As the words were repeated once more, his shaking body relaxed and he lowered his head in submission. He thought he saw the hintings of a smile on the other man's face.

"Солдат?"

"готовы соблюдать." *

*"Soldier?" "Willing to comply."


	11. Chapter 11

"Hand over the shield," ordered Steve in a low voice as he cautiously rounded a shady corner. This the fourth hallway he'd followed to the end; the HYDRA base felt like a maze - and the directions in which he found himself going were confusing and disorienting. He had an inkling it was meant to be that way. But as he found himself in front of a lone HYDRA agent who _happened_ to be carrying his shield, the uneasy feeling that this was all planned out overcame him once again. The job should be hard - when it wasn't, there was usually something up. He wouldn't be completely surprised if the man just handed it to him - the way things had been going, it almost wouldn't seem out of place.

"You don't really think I'd just _give_ it to you, right?" came the muffled reply, its owner unphased by Steve pointing a pistol at his head.

 _That_ sounded more like it. "If you wanna to it the hard way, let's do it the hard way," said the soldier, feeling a strange sense of relief in the challenge. Steve slid his gun into its holster and delivered a sound blow to his opponent's stomach, sending him stumbling back a few paces. A fury of kicks and punches from both sides followed, Steve mostly focused on grabbing his shield and getting on with the mission. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun along the way….

"You know, you could've used it to your advantage there," he commented, nodding to the shield as the agent held his right shoulder and let out a groan. "Just because you've got it in your left hand doesn't mean only that side of you's protected," he continued, kneeing the man to the floor and regaining his beloved hunk of vibranium. "I guess we can both agree that the shield is more useful to the hands that trained for it."

"You don't deserve that shield," growled the man from his coiled position on the chilled floor. "Never have, never will," he hissed with the last breath he could gather before slumping into an unconscious heap.

The veteran nodded slowly and cast a weary glance on the agent. "I trained for it," he said quietly. "And in the beginning, I wanted it." With a heavy sigh he shook his head as a pang of buried guilt and regret stung in his mind. "I never said I earned it," he muttered, shaking himself out of the flashes of memory that had overcome him in the moment. He was on duty. It was time to move on.

Steve stepped back and inspected his shield, handling it easily and checking for any added HYDRA gadgets. As far as he could tell, it was the same as ever. Traces of a grin played across his face. It was good to have the old thing back.

As he prepared to continue, the Captain bristled. Something - or someone - was watching. Surveillance cameras? Not that he could tell. What was giving him the feeling that -

"Okay, man, I just gotta say - the way you took out that dude just now - that was super epic. I mean, you are a super-human, so obviously it was _super_ , but what I'm trying to say is….Well, I'm just so excited to be here! Like, I'm still not over being accepted into the team - such a big fan!"

Steve frowned. "Mr. Lang, what are you doing here? And where are you?"

" _Scott,_ Cap. It's Scott." A tiny figure jumped off the fallen man's helmet and in a moment transformed into the human-sized Antman.

"Who called you in?"

"The bird dude, who else?"

"Y'know, for a guy who went on two tours, Sam doesn't seem too keen on following orders," muttered Steve, unsurprised but unamused. "Alright, well, I guess I could use your help. Do you have any information regarding where they're keeping Bucky?"

Wow, I'm surprised he admitted he needed help. That's a first, interjected Sharon over Scott's headpiece. Tell him as far as we know, Bucky's in the northeast corner of the building, in or near what appears to be the weaponry room. And tell him to watch his back - HYDRA has sharp eyes and sharp ears; a little more stealth would be advisable.

Scott related the message easily, his smile tinged with awe-struck pride. It was still hard to reconcile that he was in the big leagues now, but _boy_ was he enjoying it!

"Who else is she planning on sending in?" asked Steve with a somewhat irritated sigh. He had given up on the idea that either Sharon or Sam would let him go in solo.

Scott paused to listen for the answer, then he gave the Captain a sly look. Well, as sly a look as he could pull off with a giant grin still plastered on his face. "She said you'll have to wait and see."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Of course she did," he grumbled. "No one ever wants to be cooperative around here."

Scott smirked. "She says she loves you too."

"Heh. Wish I heard that more often," said the soldier under his breath. "Alright, Scott, suit up - or size down. Or whatever the heck you need to do so we can keep moving."

"Got it!" came the reply as his companion shrunk down to ant-size and hopped into Steve's glove. From there, he ran up the Captain's arm and alighted on his shoulder. "Let's win this thing!" he shouted, his tiny voice filled with enthusiasm.

"I was never planning on losing."


	12. Chapter 12

"Status report on the Captain," ordered Zemo, striding into the dim monitoring room with an authoritative air. He didn't give the slightest hint that he was pleased with how everything had gone so far - he couldn't compromise his well-established, disciplined attitude of dutiful seriousness. Not when everything had, after all, gone so very well. The celebration of their victim's death - or perhaps it would be _victims'_ , depending on how the asset decided to behave (and if he would _ever_ cooperate about that confounded mission report!) - would certainly be had, in its due time. But for the present, it was enough to watch with amused but hidden pleasure as the unsuspecting man walked willingly to his long-awaited, especially _unpleasant_ death.

"As far as I can tell, sir, we remain undetected," came the security guard's reply as he adjusted the focus on one of the monitors. On it were two small but unmistakable characters - a war captain and his nearly invisible friend.

"Are we picking up any audio, agent?" rasped the Baron, his accent thickening in his attempt to hide his excitement.

"Barely, sir. And unfortunately it's hard to decipher. The target hasn't talked very much, and he hasn't said anything that would appear to be of consequence."

It's a shame, really, that he's so silent before the words that will be his last." The villain sighed and shook his head in mock sympathy. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped. Keep eyes on him." The agent saluted as the Baron walked away. To himself he continued, "I shall consult Rumlow before I carry out my plan, to eliminate all doubt that he has a better one. Though, I admit, there's little doubt to be rid of. I must say I will be _quite_ impressed if he can come up with anything better."


	13. Chapter 13

Sam rolled his eyes and gave a frustrated growl as he walked around the still-airborne jet, gathering his gear. " _C'mon_ , girl! Let me go in! We both know dam- _darn_ well how much he needs me." The avenger ordered Redwing onto the back of his suit.

Sharon gave him a teasing look and chuckled. "You know, you can swear while Steve's not around - I don't mind. I'm used to it."

"Look, sister, you want me not to get chewed out by Cap when you guys have kids runnin' around an' copyin' everything their hecka cool uncle says, you better expect me to start cleanin' up my vocab now." He checked his suit's charge and glanced up at Sharon who had blushed when he mentioned she and Steve having children. She couldn't suppress a smile.

"See," continued the war vet, "Steve might be able to change old army habits fast, but if you haven't noticed yet, I do what he does, just slower."

"All right," consented the blonde with a sigh, "you can go in. Not that I could've stopped you anyways," she muttered. "But be careful. You know well enough that HYDRA doesn't play nice." She continued typing on her laptop for a few more seconds and then leaned back and slipped off her headset, rubbing her stiff neck. "I'd go in myself, except I'm still waiting for a confirmation from Clint. I don't expect Wanda to get into this one - we shouldn't have all our players in the same field, and besides, this base is very like the one used on her and her brother." Sharon stood up and hit the latch that unlocked the back door of the jet, following Sam as he prepared to jump.

"We got this," said the Falcon with a reassuring smile. "But hey, if my wingman wants to join in, I got no objections."

"I'll tell Clint you said that."

Sam laughed and shook his finger at her. "Don't you dare, girl, don't you dare."


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey, Cap!" came an alert from the soldier's miniature sidekick.

"What?" whispered Steve, cautiously glancing around.

"I've got a message coming in from your...significant other."

"You know, you can just call her Sharon, Scott. What is it?"

Antman hesitated as he listened to the communication, then he said, "Go straight on ahead, we're clear 'til the end."

"Tell her thanks and then shut off anything you have that could be detected as an electronic signal or make noise." Then, slowing his pace, Steve looked at his little partner with cold, weary eyes. "You know, this isn't some back alley fight. This is war. The next ten days, ten hours, ten _minutes_ could cost us our lives." The soldier shook his head and let out a heavy breath, his voice firm. "I know you've got a family, Scott. A daughter. She deserves a father who's alive. There's no shame in turning back now."

"Thanks, Cap," came the somewhat choked-up reply as the ex-convict tried to gain control over himself. They walked a few paces before he was able to speak again."But, all my life I've tried to be a hero. I've always failed, until I saved Cassie. She's the most important thing in the world to me. She's family. And I can see that Bucky isn't just your best friend, he's your brother. He's family, too. If one of my buddies was taken away from me, I'd sure as heck do anything to get him back. And to be honest, I'd want as much help as I could get if he was stuck in some psycho-run, maximum-security prison like this one." Steve gave him a slight smile at his description of the HYDRA base. Then, the little man continued: "Yeah, I've never been much of a hero, but I'd like to become one. That's why when Captain America asked for my help, I didn't turn him down. And, at this point, even if we weren't friends, I'd be a coward to back out – I've given you my word." Scott sniffled behind his mask. "Cassie deserves a daddy who's alive, but she also deserves a daddy who's a hero. I'm staying 'til it's over."

Steve's gaze softened as Scott finished his speech, and he smiled quietly as they neared the end of the dark hallway. "Thanks, Scott. You're helping more than you know-"

"Pardon my interruption of this heartwarming conversation – it really _does_ bring tears to the eyes – but I'm afraid there's more pressing business to get to." Seeing the angry and startled expressions of the two Avengers, who had instinctively taken a defensive stance, Zemo laughed. With a flick of his wrist he signaled over two dozen soldiers with machine guns to file into the hallway and surround the two. Scott was on the verge of engaging, but Steve ordered him back.

"I thought you said it was clear from here on out," muttered the soldier, mistrust creeping into his tone.

"I swear that's what she said!" exclaimed Scott, transforming to his regular size and grudgingly following Steve's signal to surrender.

"Ah, Sharon," crooned the villain in a sickeningly sweet voice. "There aren't very many friends left for you to trust anymore, are there, Captain? One of them was obviously lying." He tutted with fake remorse and gave the angered soldier a venomous grin. "On your knees, Captain. Your _friend_ as well." He smirked in satisfaction as the agents clasped both heroes' hands in handcuffs and confiscated their weapons. Steve's glare glistened with angst and confusion, but never left Zemo's eyes.

As the two were roughly pulled to their feet and shoved forward, the Baron patted Steve's shoulder in mock sympathy, then struck him hard, his voice still retaining its false nature. "I can assure you, Steven, there are more piteous things to cry about."


	15. Chapter 15

"Is our asset ready?" questioned Zemo, looking through the bulletproof glass as the once-gentle man struggled violently against his restraining bonds. An unrestrained man holding a faded leather book decorated with only a single midnight star seemed to be talking to him. After a moment, the anguished, crazed expression drained from the soldier's face, his eyes becoming icy and distant. His metal arm fell lax in its iron and he looked up at the counselor with a blank but attentive stare.

Not waiting for the guard to answer, Zemo opened the door of the containment room and approached the prisoner.

"Soldier?"

"Ready to comply."

With a satisfied nod, Zemo motioned for the soldier's restraints to be removed and he looked his weapon in the eye. For a fraction of a second, the Winter Soldier's gaze changed. It was impossible to describe what the emotion was, but Zemo didn't like it. He looked anxious and hurt...innocent, almost. The opposite of everything the Baron wanted the scum to think he was. But, in a fleeting moment, it was replaced by the same empty stare. Excellent.

The psychiatrist calmed his own nervous foot tapping which had begun when his client's bonds were removed, and composed himself. "May I talk to you for a moment, sir?" he whispered, his voice betraying his worry.

Zemo straightened and turned, disgusted by this little man's lack of confidence. "Speak."

"Episodes caused by his memories returning at unexpected times are growing increasingly frequent, sir." He shrugged shakily. "I don't know how long he'll last without a complete wipe, sir."

The small man almost looked _remorseful_ at the thought of cleansing their weapon of his imperfections. Loathsome twit - Zemo would be sure to be rid of him as soon as possible. "Yes, yes," he acknowledged the concern with a dismissive wave. "After this mission, if he's still worth using I will certainly look into it, thank you."

"I don't think you understand-"

"I have worked in this business longer than you, doctor. I'm sure I understand perfectly," hissed the Baron, losing his patience. "Now, leave me alone with our soldier."

"Your victim is here, мой друг*. He meant to make you his." He studied the man's haggard expression. "Our enemies sent him here to kill you, but fortunately I was able to stop him in time. Of course, I think you could have handled him quite well." There was a ravenous hunger in the soldier's grin that told Zemo he was more than capable. "He'll be sent in shortly. We've interrogated him for a few days, but we can't seem to break him." he continued. "Deal with him how you like. I only ask one thing: don't let him leave alive. Any man sent to attempt your death doesn't deserve to live."

A spark in the soldier's eyes was Zemo's signal to leave. The assassin needed to find the perfect end for their common enemy by himself; it would give him a feeling of choice, the sweet taste of freedom. Weapons were laid out all over the tables and walls; Zemo was only curious to see what the man would pick.

"Kill him slowly."

The prisoner frowned, unsure whether he enjoyed the privileges this command gave him or not.

"And, if you manage to draw a few words out of him beforehand, all the better.

Understood?"

Silence.

Zemo's lip twitched in irritation. " _Understood?_ "

The assassin's eyes clouded over, confused. They seemed to see a different world than the one before them.

"Военный**!" barked Zemo, striking the man and startling him out of his thoughts.

The asset lowered his head and mumbled the only words he could. "Ready to comply."

*My friend

**Soldier


	16. Chapter 16

"This is almost as bad as…." He let out a heavy breath, squinting his eyes shut.

"As what, Cap?"

"Shut up," warned a guard, roughing them up for talking during the transport. After Zemo had given his little speech, he had sent them along with two of his best men to be put in their holding cells and "prepared" for interrogation, or whatever other ugly ordeal he had come up with.

"Never mind." The memory that had flashed into Steve's mind as he struggled in his shackles wasn't a pleasant one. During the early years of the war he had been taken as a POW in Germany after a sacrifice play to save the Howling Commandos. It was only ten days before he escaped, but those ten days were hell. His experiences were buried in some SSR file in SHIELD's archives. HYDRA hadn't been merciful nor had he given in. The capture was kept on low profile to keep the public from fear and discouragement. He was the symbol of the nation, a gift to the people, and certainly it wasn't appropriate that he should be captured and treated lower than any other enemy soldier in the war. File access was open to only a few who were in SHIELD's elite ranks, and Steve hadn't told anyone, not even Bucky, all the details. Except Peggy. She had filed the report when he was rescued, because he wasn't functioning well enough to file it himself. But now that she was...well, he didn't want to think about that.

"It's the cuffs." Seeing Scott's concerned glances, and trying to keep his mind off of what he knew he had to do, Steve decided to risk another jab from the butt of the guard's gun. Sure enough, he was paid with a smart thrust in his side. The soldier coughed and faked a stagger, distracting the guard for a moment before slamming his body into him and pushing him into the brick wall.

One down.

"What about the cuffs?" asked his companion, watching in panicked confusion.

A gun cocked, and Steve looked up to see the other guard aiming a rifle at Scott's head. "I ain't playin' no games, Rogers," snarled the man with a malicious grin. "I know how much you value your little friends. If you're gonna play around, you're gonna lose."

 _Finally, guards are starting to get a grip on things._ The vet glanced at Scott whose eyes were frantically shouting, "Steve! Now is not a good time to try anything stupid!" _Same look Buck usually had. But now's not the time._

"The cuffs? They're the kind that dig into your wrists and tighten every time you move. I guess some things just don't change in seventy years." _HYDRA's torture methods being one of them,_ he added regretfully to himself.

"Step towards me with your hands down," commanded the guard. Steve obeyed as the rifle's focus slowly transitioned from his friend to him. Once it was focussed on his own head, in a quick movement Steve darted to the side and knocked the gun out of the guard's hands, kicking him in the stomach and landing a swift blow to his jaw with the metal of his bonds. The agent fell unconscious.

"What the heck was that? What are you doing?" cried Scott in a nervous voice, his eyes darting around as if an armed agent would appear out of thin air.

"I'm getting you out of here. They haven't stripped you of your suit yet, but you don't have long. So get tiny and get out!"

"There's no way I'm just going to abandon you to face them on your own! We're in this together, remember?"

"You really think they'd keep us together anyways, Scott? No. I got you into this mess, I'm getting you out. I don't know if it was your fault, or Sharon's, or some twisted plan of Zemo's that we're captured now, but it's my fault if you don't see your daughter again, and HYDRA interrogation isn't pretty."

"But Cap-"

"That's an order."

Scott shrunk out of his handcuffs and became human size once more in a matter of seconds. "At least let me help you out of those things," he said, nodding to the cuffs. He winced. "Your wrists are already bleeding badly."

"There isn't time, HYDRA's bases are crawling with cameras. There's probably a team already on its way now. And if you take these off, they'll put on worse ones. Now _go._ "

"I-" Scott let out a rueful sigh and saluted. He shrunk down to ant size and began running down the hallway. "I'll come back for you, Cap! I swear it on my life!"

Those were the last words Steve heard before footsteps pounded towards him and he was shot to the floor.


	17. Chapter 17

"I don't care _how_ you do it, just make sure it's humiliating and you catch it on tape. We want the whole world to know that even Captain America cannot escape us."

"Yes, Baron. I don't see that as an issue. I think our asset is even, well, _looking forward_ to it. SPUTNIK has done something to him…." The agent ran his hand through his hair and threw his hand up with a sigh. "If I said I disliked it, I'd be lying. But he's lusting for blood - he's not the silent, deadly tool we knew. He's aggressive. He almost took out one of my men as they passed, and when I asked him why, he said for _fun_. The former soldier would never have gone that far."

"Rumlow, tell me, when it comes down to it, is the sniper much different from the man who uses a rack? They both achieve what they set out to accomplish - death. As long as our soldier can still give us that, I could care less how he does it. Just get it done."

"But...he's going _mad_ , Zemo. We're barely keeping him under control." Brock readjusted his earpiece and continued. "This could very well be his last mission."

"Well then make it count."


	18. Chapter 18

_Ow._ Steve woke up, groggy and disoriented. Stun darts tended to do that sort of thing. Didn't help that he had gun wounds in his stomach that hadn't quite healed yet either. They hadn't touched the bandages, at least he could be grateful for that. With considerable effort, Steve hoisted his aching frame to a sitting position against the cold, smooth stone. He sighed and rested his head back against it. _You're fine. You can do this._ He didn't look at his hands - didn't want to. They probably weren't too bad anyways. Could be worse, right? Probably would get worse anyways.

 _So, how am I going to get out of this? If Scott is here, the team is on its way. There's no avoiding it now. Dammit. People never listen._ His eyes traced a crack in the ceiling and rested on the bolted, metal door. He listened, trying to decide whether the sound was distant footsteps, or not, or if there wasn't really a sound at all. _This is all wrong. It was my mission, if I died, it was my risk to take. I don't want my friends' blood on my hands. I don't want their blood on anyone's hands._ He could feel the surge of guilt, anxiety, anger rise up from his stomach and catch in his throat. _I can't let it happen again._ He clenched his fists and threw his head back against the wall, harder than he needed to. The pain distracted him, suppressed the emotions, calmed him down. He closed his eyes, blew out another heavy breath and swallowed, his heartbeat slowing to a steadier thump.

The turn of the key in the lock was enough to send a tingle down his spine. The door creaked open slowly, dramatically. It was like Zemo to make every hateful moment of his bloody misery last for as long as possible.

He knew what was coming. How could he not?

* * *

Broken glass. Sharp wire. Needles. Nails. Water, hot or cold. Blades: serrated, smooth, hooked. Chains. Rope. A gun. A metal fist. Whatever he wanted was at his disposal. Torture devices of various kinds. Most of them simple, things you wouldn't think should hurt unless someone digs them into your skin. Complicated things too, but not as many. It doesn't take much to break people.

But it was his eyes. He was cold. Relentless. Gone.

It was terrifying.

No amount of talking, pleading, reasoning would make a dent in his demeanor. Soon it became painful to breath, let alone speak.

They had created a monster.

They had done a fantastic job.

It was like a dream, but he wasn't the one dreaming. It was Bucky who was caught in another world. Didn't remember his name. Didn't remember anything but the task before him. Wasn't the man who would pick up a man from the street, dust him off, listen to his story, buy him a drink. His hands weren't gentle like when he saved the newborn runt their neighbor's dog rejected when they were kids. He wasn't the guy who cared about girls and his grades, but his family infinitely more. Bucky wouldn't do this. Bucky wouldn't know how.

* * *

It had been five hours.

Steve didn't know how much more he could take. They wouldn't get him to talk, not to reveal anything that would jeopardize his friends. They wouldn't get him to make a call for ransom; besides, who would ransom him? And at what price? Would HYDRA accept the risk of ransom? No, that was off the table. What was it Zemo really wanted? Simply seeing him in pain? The trophy of defeating Captain America? Bucky, obviously, because he was useful. He was leverage. But why Steve? Did Zemo think he could convince the team to surrender?

 _No, it couldn't be. He isn't that stupid._

 _So why am I still alive?_


	19. Chapter 19

"This is it. We have to do something."

It had been four days since an upset Scott had stopped Sam from going in.

He could see a glimpse of the Falcon in his stealth suit; black and dulled silver, creeping towards the base. Sam was cautious, receiving direction from Sharon, weighing his risks. Scott ran in ant form until he was a few feet away, then yelled up at his friend so he wouldn't be startled when he popped up in human size.

"Hey, tic-tac. Good to see you're still goin' strong. Where's Steve..." Sam's grin faded as he realized that Scott was sickly pale...and shaking. "What's wrong?"

"Turn off your earpiece."

"What? What happened? Why?"

"Just do it so I know." Scott swallowed, then almost choked.

Sam's brow furrowed in concern. "Know what man, what's goin' on?"

"I swear on my life, Sam, turn it off!" The desperation in Scott's eyes was easy to detect. Rookies were like that. Sam had seen the same look in the eyes of countless new recruits and first deployments. Once you'd been damaged enough, it kind of fogged over, lost its freshness. It was still there, but the person behind it was hardened. Scott hadn't reached that point. Sam hoped he never would.

"Okay," Sam replied in a softer voice. He told Sharon to hold on, then pulled his earpiece out. "What's wrong?"

"Sharon's HYDRA."

"What the hel-ck are you talking about?"

"She led us straight into a trap with Zemo waiting on the other end. She lied to me over coms, told me it was clear from there on out. Now Cap's taken and it's my fault for falling for it." Scott didn't want to seem sensitive, but this was not how he imagined his first mission with the team. He never meant for it to go this way. Steve was in danger now because of him. "She...she betrayed us." It was shocking, angering that he didn't see through the lie. He wanted to yell, cry, kick something. Instead, he looked at Sam weakly. "Tell me you're not HYDRA too."

Sam put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "Look, man, Sharon's not HYDRA. She never told you guys to keep going. I was on coms too, I heard what she said. She tried to warn you! Your connection got cut and we've been trying to get it back since. I was about to go in after you two."

Relief poured over Scott's expression. "Well, if it wasn't her and it wasn't me, who was it?"

"I don't know." He sighed, stepping back. "Probably some nasty trick of someone in HYDRA. Crossbones or something. He's good at that sort of thing - making people trust him. Probably capable of intercepting the coms too." Sam clenched his fist. "I got a fight to pick with that guy."

"Whoever it was, they're going down."

Sam smiled at the determination in Scott's tone. "That's what I'm talkin' about. So where's Steve?"

"Taken. HYDRA probably has him in some holding cell by now. I would be in there too, but he jumped our guards and made me leave. I didn't want to, but I figured I could come back for more help that I could give alone."

"Yeah, that, and there's no arguing with Steve once he makes up his mind. So he's not...down, is he?"

"I heard gunshots on the way out."

"That could mean anything. Was he in a position that they would shoot to kill? What kind of shots did they sound like?"

Scott hesitated. "I don't think he's dead. Zemo was planning something big. I overheard something about interrogation; I think that's where we were supposed to go."

"I have to believe he's alive," Sam said as they walked towards where the helicarrier was hidden in the woods. "I can't believe he would go down so easy."

But that was four days ago.

Since then, Clint had arrived. Now, they just had to figure out how to get him out. Conditions had changed; HYDRA was amping up their security and they had barely been able to remain undiscovered.

"This is it. We have to do something." Sharon paced the floor, her frustration evident. They should have been in days ago.

"How much time do we have?" asked Clint, strumming his bowstring and glancing at the other's expressions.

"Knowing Steve, he won't give in or give up, so as far as information goes, an eternity. The question is, how much time do we have before he's too far gone?"

"He's a super soldier, isn't he? I hate to point it out, but can they kill him easily? I mean it's hell, but can he break?" Scott despised the concept of letting their friend stay in HYDRA's hands, but it was a valid question.

"It's not only a question of getting Steve back before his body gives out. I'm afraid of him being mentally gone," said Sharon, trying unsuccessfully to draw up a plan of how to save her best friend without severe consequences.

"You may not have seen him before it happened, but he hasn't been the same since SHIELD fell. It did some nasty stuff to his brain. A man can only take so much." Clint stood and walked the to the cockpit and back. He shook his head. "Throw in your best friends turning against you, and that does stuff to you. Stuff you can't just get rid of. We have to get him out as soon as we can."

"No one disagrees on that," Sam interjected. "That's not the point. The point is how. How do we get ourselves in and come out with him and Bucky alive?"

"What's the status of Steve's friend, Scott?" asked Clint.

"I don't know. If HYDRA took over our supposedly super secure coms, I wouldn't put it past them to have completely reprogrammed Bucky as well."

Sharon rubbed her temples, trying to concentrate. She had known this mission would go wrong. How could it have gone right? _Oh, Steve, why? Why are you in there and not on that date you promised me? Why aren't we dressed as civilians and eating a nice dinner and seeing a movie and holding hands as you walk me home? Why can't we just be normal, be together, be happy?_

"Sharon?" Sam gently called her back to reality. Her mind wandered easily when she was trying to avoid panic.

"Yeah? Sorry. So, we know he's being interrogated?"

"It's our best bet," sighed Scott, "and his worst one."

"I would imagine they'd use Bucky against him, wouldn't they?" Clint asked, a glint in his eye. He remembered the days Loki brainwashed him and turned him against his friends. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't his fault. Same thing here, which made the whole thing even more complicated. They couldn't just take one of them out. They had to save both.

"Of course. This whole thing was a trap. Steve knew that from the beginning, but it was one Zemo knew he couldn't resist, whether he knew what could happen or not."

"Is this all the backup we're getting?" interrupted Sam. "I mean, no offense to my wingman here, but it's us against an entire army of agents with machine guns."

"Your 'wingman,' huh?" Clint muttered with eyebrows raised. "At least I came."

"Guys! Steve is in there right now, probably terrified, probably being tortured in some way and we're not jumping in to save him?" Scott clenched his fist in exasperation. "I mean, I'm new to this whole Avenger thing, but isn't saving people what superheroes do?"

"Everybody shut up!" Sharon collapsed into a chair and put her head in her hands. The men stood awkwardly, waiting in silence as she sat and sat, not looking up, not saying a word. At one point, Sam wondered if she had fallen asleep. She finally raised her head, her eyes a little redder and more watery than before, her cheeks flushed pink.

"I've got it." Her expression was daunting, as if she could shoot someone down with her eyes.

"Got what?"

"A plan."


	20. Chapter 20

"What do you mean you can't? I thought you knew the Mandarin!" Zemo stalked the length of his private office on the north side of the base, churning his wine glass with agitated swishes.

"He's no longer in business," growled Rumlow, the irritation in his voice adding an extra rasp. "I don't know why it's necessary to broadcast it anyways."

"It is the prime moment of our victory! The salt poured into America's wound! It will be beautiful, my friend." He smiled down at his drink. "We don't want them to miss it." Zemo paused to take a long sip, then sighed, returning to his pacing. "There must be someone else we know who is capable of infiltrating the system."

"There is one."

"Well spit it out, man, who is it?"

Rumlow hesitated. "I have an agent stationed as an undercover in Stark's team of engineers. He's a top notch hacker and more than capable of overriding the system."

"Why didn't you bloody say so? It would have saved me days of trouble!"

"He's busy with a project I have him assigned to, but if there's no other option, I'll put you in contact."

"By all means, Rumlow, look into it!"

When his associate had left, Zemo drained his glass and sank into his chair. "Why, why do the fates curse me so?" He got up, uncapped a vodka bottle and sat back down. "Idiot!" He took a shot and breathed a heavy note of frustration. "I've been waiting, planning my whole life for this moment and you mean to tell me you've had the man I needed at your fingertips the whole time?" He slammed the bottle down on the table and threw the crystal shot glass across the room. It met the wall and bursted into a firework of jagged fragments. He took another swig straight from the bottle.

By the time a soldier came in for a report, the man was humming a Russian lullaby and swiveling himself back and forth with a stupid grin plastered on his face. The agent figured he'd leave the report for another day.


	21. Chapter 21

He could barely lift his head, barely take a breath without clenching his teeth in pain. His body was covered in red sticky streams and patches, mostly surface wounds, the deep ones roughly bound to keep him alive.

He was the image of defeat.

They had taken his suit and shield back. He was dressed in a tan prisoner's uniform, ripped and stained, a number sewn on the left sleeve. They wanted to deprive him of any special treatment, but he knew it would have been impossible for anyone without the serum to last this long.

The captive sucked air down his caked, dry throat. Everywhere around him looked red and tasted like salt; even the air he breathed had to pass over cracked lips, through a bleeding nose. He had thrown up the last time he tried to eat what they left him. He was too tired, too sick, too upset. All the water they had placed in his cell was gone, but it was still nowhere near enough.

This was worse than the first time. Hard to imagine interrogation getting any lower than the POW camp, but somehow they had found a way.

Steve would give anything for a moment of painless sleep. Death was welcome if he could ensure his friends' safe escape. But that was impossible; he had to live on.

The soldier gingerly laid his head on his knees. He wanted more than anything to cry, but he knew he wasn't alone. There were cameras on him at all times, watching, waiting. He knew what they wanted. A sign of surrender, a moment where he showed a glimpse of his grief, his crumbling spirit. He couldn't do this, he knew it. The thought of leaving his cell to go back to where Bucky - no, the Winter Soldier - was waiting filled his chest with anguish, his head with fear.

 _He would hate to see you like this._

 _But he's the one who made you this way._

 _That wasn't him, you know that._

 _But he's inside somewhere, screaming, fighting to get out. I just have to help him remember._

 _Then you can't give up._

Slowly, Steve raised his head. A rush of blood made it throb but he eyed the surveillance camera defiantly nonetheless.

It came out as a whisper, then a shout.

"I won't be broken."

Less than a minute later, he was dragged away.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hi guys! First of all, I'm impressed and honored you've read this far, props to you. :) This chapter is a little different from what I usually do (it goes from 0-100 real quick) and I'm thinking of tying it into the sequel I'm hoping to write.**

 **This is not the last chapter. There will probably be at least two more, if things go as planned. I hope to have both of them up ASAP in the next couple weeks, and start uploading the sequel during the summer.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! If you're compelled to leave a review, I always appreciate it, and PLEASE include any requests or thoughts of what you do/don't want to see in the upcoming story. I don't have everything set in stone yet and I love suggestions. :)**

 **Love you all!**

 **~OnYourLeft107**

* * *

Natasha stepped out of her steaming shower and into a pale pink robe, squeezing as much moisture as she could out of her dripping curls. On her days off, this was her nightly routine. Hot shower, slipping into a sweatshirt and fuzzy pajama pants, grabbing some comfort food. Nights off were a rare occurrence - maybe once or twice every month - since she preferred not to get her hands dirty in broad daylight. So she had to make the best of them.

Contrary to popular belief, she wore colors other than black. Sometimes. Not in public. Unless she was undercover or there was a reason she should. Her favorite pair of fuzzy pants were pink with little gray cats sprinkled all over them. If anyone found out, they'd be dead. They sure were comfortable, though.

The assassin sat cross-legged on her bed after she'd dressed and ran a brush through her hair. She parted it in two and plaited it into a pair of french braids that barely brushed her shoulders. It was how she wore her hair as a young girl; her mother had taught her how to braid before...well, before the Red Room.

Nat padded into the kitchen in bare feet, wiggling her toes as she stepped across the soft carpet of her room. It felt good to have her feet unrestrained and out of combat boots, to not be worried about stepping in shards of glass or debris, to have no concern over someone spilling some toxic chemical for her to step in. Nope, here she was safe. And it was quiet.

She popped her Chinese takeout into the microwave. Her whole apartment was dimly-lit, the only bulb on being the security light above the kitchen sink that cast a blue-gray light over the room. She pulled the living room curtains closed, extinguishing any light that happened to filter in from the settling dusk outside. When her food was warmed up, Nat flicked on the T.V. and settled into her armchair, fiddling with her chopsticks as she waited for the commercials to end and the news to come on.

She went to grab the remote. "Черт, again?" She stood up and snatched it from the table. The news still wasn't on yet. _Honestly, how long do these commercials have to be?_ She switched to the Hallmark channel. Commercials again. _Ughhhhhh_. Even world class assassins need something to laugh at and put them to sleep. Hallmarks just happened to do both.

She headed to the fridge for a drink, the T.V. still humming its advertisements from the other room.

" _.._. _Get relief like you've never felt before! Some common side effects are: dizziness, drowsiness, weakening of the immune system, mood swings, changes in blood sugar, new or worsening depression, and in extreme cases, hospitalization due to an allergic reaction. Don't settle for less! Get allergy relief now!"_

Nat smirked. "I'd rather keep my allergies than deal with that load of crap," she muttered as she came back with a candy bar and a glass of wine. "Why would I get a medication for allergies that would potentially make them worse?" she asked herself as she sat back down in the lazy boy. She switched it back to _News at 6_.

It was depressing, as usual. Murder, theft, assault - all the normal reports. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered, but Nat wanted to make sure that if there was ever someone she could help catch in the area, she would. Always working overtime, even on her nights off. Then again, with the whole accords thing, she didn't know how much she could really do anymore.

" _Coming up after News at 6, an exclusive airing of 'My Fair Lady" on tonight as a continuation of our tribute to Audrey Hepburn. Stay tuned!"_

Nat smiled. She was always down for a good musical, and the old ones were always the best. No Hallmark chick flick tonight, she had upped her standards. She took a long sip of wine and sank further into her cocoon of chair and blankets. It was gonna be a good night.

* * *

" _...The girl was allegedly shot and killed after the break-in attempt. Police are still looking for the suspects._

" _There have been no updates on the mysterious disappearance of Steven Rogers, the so-called 'Captain America.' He, along with several other dangerous individuals that can be found on the UN's newly-published list of 'vigilantes,' were found to be missing just last week. James Barnes, alias 'The Winter Soldier,' was among them. There has been no further news since."_

Natasha groggily tuned in to the morning report as she woke up still comfortably situated in the recliner. _I must have fallen asleep after the movie last night and forgot to turn it off_. Nat yawned and shifted her position, stretching out her legs after sleeping curled up for several hours. She sniffed, let out another yawn and scratched her wispy braids as her clouded vision finally focused. She was just in time to catch a recorded interview with Tony in it.

" _Mr. Stark, since the signing of the Sokovia Accords have you had any contact with your friends who refused to agree to its terms?"_

" _If you're referring to Rogers, no. I assume that's what you're asking."_

The reporter fumbled for a couple seconds before asking, " _How has the Captain's decision affected you and the rest of the Avengers team?"_

" _I can't speak for the rest of the team, but I'll say this. The reason we came together was because we wanted to save lives. As many as we could. Rogers knew that. Rogers knows that. In fact, when we failed that duty, he was the one who wanted us all to be put in check."_

Nat could see that Tony was struggling to stay calm, his breathing became more noticeable and his lips pursed into an angry line.

" _All I can say is I'm disappointed in the way things turned out. I expected more out of a man who's supposed to understand the aftereffects of a war."_ Tony gave a cold smile and the reports cut back to live time.

" _There you have it, the words of billionaire Anthony Stark on the controversial split of the Avengers team._

" _Next up is the weather report at-"_

The screen suddenly fizzed out and the news was silenced. Nat frowned as it crackled for a few seconds before a camera came into focus in front of a glass room. This wasn't the news channel anymore. There was a kicking sound and a muffled agonized cry.

Natasha's blood ran cold. The cry was too genuine not to be real and she knew that voice. She had heard that groan before. Her hands trembled as she clenched the armrests of the chair, her eyes paralyzed by what she saw on the screen.

" _America,"_ rasped a voice dripping with heartless pride _, "your hero has finally failed you."_

This wasn't a joke. This was a live stream. She didn't know how they had overridden the system, but somehow they had gotten in. Which meant HYDRA was still alive and operating.

" _Your Captain has been brought to his knees. It is only fitting that he should die with the public eye upon him, for that is how he lived: ever anxious, ever dreading the moment he'd let someone down, make a mistake, commit an irreversible act. He lived every day of his life regretting the times he had. And now he will die, never having a chance to repair the damage he has done."_ The speaker's laugh was cold, unforgiving. " _He will die as an example. An example of what can happen to a man who betrays the ones who need him the most. Steven Rogers is a failed experiment."_

The door swung open by some invisible hand and revealed a sight worse than she could have imagined. "Steve," she whispered, his name catching in her throat. He was the closest thing to a brother she would ever have. "What did they do to you?" She wasn't sure if he could still be alive.

There was blood. Everywhere. One of his eyes was swollen shut. The other was squinted, his hand weakly positioned in front of his face, bracing for the next blow. His face and neck were shaded with bruises, as if he had been rendered completely incapable of defending himself. That may have been a choice at some point, not to fight back, but now it was the only option. He was trying to say something but the words wouldn't come. The look on his face was less of fear or defiance and more of hurt and heartache.

And then she saw why.

"Oh, no. Steve…." She closed her eyes on the scene as the Winter Soldier's arm came into the frame, his hand as soaked in crimson as his victim's body. Her eyes flicked open as the voice began to speak again.

" _This is what can happen to one man who fails to protect, who fails to keep his promises. Imagine what could befall an entire country, should it fail to answer its ally's cry for help. America has failed. America has failed to protect Sokovia and the thousands of citizens who inhabited it. This man is only the first of many who will pay for America's mistakes. I ask you this - what will you do if your military fails? Who will protect you? No one. You will fall, just as Sokovia did. And I promise you, America will be shown no mercy."_

* * *

Steve's lips moved, his gaze focused on his friend. He had to try one last time. Bucky could remember. He had to. He knew he could.

"B…." he let out a shallow, labored gasp. He didn't know if he had the strength to say it. "Buh...c…." He had to. The assassin drew a serrated blade and seized him by the collar, pressing the knife against his ribs, waiting for the signal to end him. This was it. He had to at least say his name.

"B…." Another gasp. "Bu...cky Barnes." Heavy breath. "Y-your name...is J...J-james...Buchanan...B…." He couldn't cry. Not now. "B-barnes." Steve grabbed his friend's arm with as much strength as he could muster and looked him in the eye. "You're...my...best...friend."

The knife plunged in.

He was too late.

Steve collapsed in the soldier's arms, limp. The assassin pulled the dagger from his side and let him fall to the floor.

 _You're my best friend._

He stared at the knife for a moment and then his eyes widened, his heart stopped. "Steve?" The blade clattered to the floor. "No, no Steve-" he stared at his bloodied hands, then at the man fallen at his feet.

* * *

Natasha could barely resist the urge to click the 'power' button on the remote.

" _Steve!"_ The scream was horror-filled, pained beyond belief. It echoed through the speakers as Bucky fell to his knees, head down, sobs racking through his body as he realized what he had done. " _No,"_ he cried, searching for any sign of life, seeing none. Bucky covered his face in his hands, trying to stifle his sobs. " _I-I'm s-so s-s-sorry."_

Agents were on him at once. They pulled the broken man to his feet, handcuffed him, began to drag him away.

" _No, no! Y-you don't u-understand, I-I d-d-didn't mean t-to - I-I n-never w-w-wanted t-to hurt him h-he's my f-friend-"_

It was useless. Bucky struggled, cried, fought them, but they dragged him off-screen, still screaming, tears soaking his uniform, still trying to reach for his best friend.

" _America,"_ announced the voice, as clear and cruel as ever, " _your Captain is dead."_

The screen went black.


	23. Chapter 23

A blast went off that shook the building, faint traces of gas seeping in through the cracks in the walls, under the door. Zemo passed out immediately, his men covered their mouths fast enough, but they could only last for so long.

Sharon and the three men burst through the door and took down every HYDRA agent in sight.

He was dropped to the floor when Sharon and Clint shot the agents restraining him. He sat there, drowning out any other sounds with his own grief. _I killed him_. He made no move to defend himself from the onset of gunshots. _Let them kill me._ He had become everything he didn't want to be. It was his fault that his hands were caked with Steve's blood.

He cried.

He cried because he was supposed to protect the little guy from Brooklyn, and now he was gone.

He was always afraid in the old days that something terrible would happen to his "little brother," as his parents referred to Steve, who always happened to be around their house. He was always afraid that sometime when he peeked down an alleyway or fished the punk out of a dumpster he wouldn't be met by a teen the size of a twelve-year-old, his lip curled in stubborn rebellion, the devil in his eyes. Always afraid he wouldn't hear a stupid explanation of some honorable reason Steve _had_ to get himself beaten to a bloody pulp, how he had almost won that time and that next time - next time was the time. Next fight he would win.

Bucky never understood it. Why he couldn't just let a sexist, racist, or disrespectful remark go. Yeah, it was wrong for them to say it, but how was giving them another target gonna help?

There was always that moment of suspended dread, when Bucky didn't know if he would be pulling a limp, broken frame out of the garbage or dusting off the dead body of a kid who hadn't really had the chance to live yet. He could never be sure what he would find.

But now he knew what he had found.

He had found that all his worry had been in vain. Because he was going to be the one to beat the spirit out of his best friend, the one to kill the last person left in his family.

And they had been brothers.

And he had promised to protect him.

And now he was gone.

This. This was the end of the line.

* * *

Sharon ran to Steve, knelt beside him, clenched his wrist and prayed, begged for him to be alive. It seemed like ages as tears dripped from her eyes onto his uniform and she waited, waited for something. Anything.

Then she felt it. A weak, almost faint beyond detection - _thump. Thump._

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, kissing his swollen hand while carefully avoiding the raw places where handcuffs had been. "You need to stop doing this to me, Steve. I can't lose you." She gently touched his cheek and drew her hand away, warm and stained scarlet. Sharon turned to the men. "We have ten minutes tops before they recover enough to counterattack. We need to be in the air and on our way before then." She looked at Steve and swallowed, brushing away her tears with the back of her hand. "He's going to bleed out...I don't know how much longer he has."

"Not much, by the looks of it," said Clint, wincing at the unwelcome sight. "Ant-guy, get over here and give us a hand." Scott scrambled over in human size and the three managed to lift the super soldier to transport him to the helicarrier.

Sam was with Bucky.

As soon as he was on the floor Sam was too, right beside him, talking to him in a low voice. This was bad. Probably as bad as he had been when Riley died. He couldn't remember his reaction clearly, and honestly, he didn't want to.

"Hey, man," he whispered as soothingly as he could, slowly removing his handcuffs. "Hey, Bucky. Can you look at me?"

Sobs. No response. No indication he had heard or seen Sam sitting beside him.

"Hey, man, I know it's hard, but I just need you to look at me, okay?"

Nothing. As if he was blind and deaf. This had to be worse than Sam had been. Then again, he hadn't believed he had taken Riley out.

"Bucky." Sam put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Look at me."

The Falcon was met with bloodshot eyes that were hot with tears, a shattered expression captured in them that he could only feel, not describe. His expression spoke more than words could have and Sam understood it perfectly. _There's nothing worse than losing someone as close to you as family. Nothing. Unless it was also your fault._

"Bucky, he's alive. You didn't kill him." A flicker of hope, then disbelief. "We're flyin' out of here. You need to come with us, okay? We're gonna save Steve."

Glassy eyes. Quieter sobs. No complaints when he was unarmed, raised to his feet, and led to the helicarrier.

* * *

It all felt like a nightmare.

"I killed him. I killed him!" Bucky kept repeating it over and over again, blocking out any attempts Sam made at comforting him.

"He's still with us. He's not gone."

"Steve's dead. Steve's dead! I killed him."

It went back and forth for the better part of the trip. Bucky had calmed down for the few minutes it took to walk to the helicarrier, but as soon as he saw Steve still bloodied up, Sharon doing the best she could to help him with what they had, he had gone into hysterics. Now he kept repeating his offense and Sam sat beside him, patiently trying to convince him he was wrong.

Finally, Clint joined them from his shift monitoring Steve. After they were into the air, Sharon was the only one who knew the way to the "safehouse," as she called it, so it was left to him and Scott to watch the Captain's vitals while Sam was occupied with his best friend. Steve's vitals weren't good, but they had managed to patch him up a bit and slow the flow from the knife wound. He wasn't gone yet, but he was getting there.

Clint sat across from Bucky and watched him for a couple minutes. He was unsteady, anyone could see that, but Clint could tell he wasn't a threat. To them at least. It would probably be best to keep him away from the weaponry at any rate. He looked at Sam, who was trying his best, but couldn't seem to get across.

"It wasn't your fault," Clint said, his voice firm.

Bucky lifted his eyes for a moment and the archer could see the extent of his vulnerability. He was terrified. He was frozen in time like a deer in the headlights, staring, unbelieving the car would stop, unreachable if it didn't.

"They got inside your mind. You couldn't have stopped it. It wasn't your fault." Clint knew what that meant. He knew how long it took to convince yourself of it, that everything bad you did had been out of your control.

"If I hadn't survived that fall, Steve would be safe."

"Steve would be dead." Sam turned to Bucky and locked his gaze. "You know as well as I do that if it hadn't been you, it would've been someone else whose memory was wiped who was put up against him. He would've done something stupid and gotten himself killed to save one of us whether or not you came into the picture." When he saw Bucky still didn't believe him, Sam sighed. "For pete's sake, he flew a plane into an iceberg when he thought you were dead. When he woke up, he didn't know what to do with himself." Sam shook his head. "Man, don't you realize you're the only one he has left who was with him growin' up? By his side through the war? You were with him on the front lines. I've been with him since he got back and has been fightin' battles in his mind. He needs both of us." Sam looked at him with the slightest grin. "Don't cut yourself too much slack, but I'm pretty dang sure he'd be worse off without you."

The veteran blinked, then stared down at the crusted blood that coated his metal hand.

"C'mon man, let's get you cleaned up."


	24. Chapter 24

"I think the sedation's wearing off-"

Screams could be heard from down the hallway. Sharon ran to the makeshift hospital room and found him lying still, his muscles tense, the whites of his eyes showing.

He felt like he couldn't breath. His heartbeat was choking him and he lay there unmoving, eyes wide as the monitor screeched its complaints over his sudden change in heart rate.

"Steve! Steve, what's wrong? I'm here!"

He blinked. Seemed to notice he wasn't alone. She could see confusion in his eyes mixed with terrible fear. He tried to take a deep breath through the oxygen mask but it came out as a shallow huff. She watched his lungs make an effort to start working on their own and then flinch; pausing, she assumed, because of pain. He looked at Sharon with the eyes of a helpless child. Ashamed eyes, embarrassed she had been scared for him over something that so often occurred - an illogical nightmare. They happened fairly often, the severe ones leaving him bordering a state of panic for an hour or two afterwards and sometimes on edge for the rest of the day. He tried to take another breath and managed to make it a full one this time.

"Steve, what happened? If I take off the mask, do you think you can talk?" He gave her an almost undetectable nod and she slipped it off, carefully elevating the bed afterwards so that he would be more comfortable. Sharon sat beside him, avoiding the various cords and tubes spread across his bed and the floor. "What happened?"

He swallowed, unsure. "It...it was all just a dream." His voice was a croak. As if he hadn't used it in a long time.

"What was?"

His eyes focused on hers.

She was beautiful. Pale pink lips, faintly flushed cheeks, long lashes framing compassionate blue eyes that were concerned over his stupid dream.

And oh. She was expecting an answer.

"Bucky tried to kill me." He attempted a smile but it wasn't funny. "I had the dream once before. But this...it was detailed, as if it actually happened. Of course, it couldn't have…."

Sharon looked uncomfortable trying to decide what to say. She cleared her throat. "Steve, it wasn't a nightmare."

"What?"

"It happened."

The soldier gazed at his bandaged body as if noticing it for the first time. A casted left arm, IV and monitor in his right, various wiring attached to his head and chest, a brace on his right foot.

Horrible pictures flooded his mind. Real ones.

"How long ago?"

"A little more than a week."

"Did everyone get out?"

"Yes."

"Bucky? Did he remember?"

Hesitation. "Yes."

"Where is he? I need to talk to him before he blames himself for everything that happened." Pause. That had been a long sentence when his lungs had only begun to work again. "He didn't know what he was doing."

"Steve." She took his hand, careful to avoid the raw, wrapped areas where his handcuffs had been. "He left."

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone. We couldn't stop him. He stayed until your vitals stabilized, then he said you'd be safer if he wasn't here." She sighed. "I told him you'd be angry. He said he didn't care. The next morning I saw he had left a note telling us not to look for him, it would be better if he wasn't found. So naturally, Sam took off after him right away. He didn't want him to be alone in whatever hideout he planned to disappear to."

Steve didn't say anything. " _Safer if he wasn't here." Well, Buck, it's you I'm worried about. Now I have to find you again._ He would clench his fist, but as one hand was in his girlfriend's and the other was broken, that wasn't an option. _Dammit, Barnes! Always making me go after you._

"I'm sorry, Steve. I know it's hard."

"What about Sam? Did he make it out okay, then? And Scott? Did he find you guys?" He was unamused. "Anyone else you happened to call in without my permission?"

"As if I _needed_ Captain America's permission." She raised her eyebrows. "I know it's been a rough few weeks but it's not as if it was my fault you insisted on going in alone. Everyone's fine, Steve. Well, as fine as we can be with the U.N. on our heels. Do you know that they actually added me to the list yesterday?"

"List? What list?"

"Oh, I forgot. You were still asleep when the reports got back to us. We're all apparently on the U.N.'s wanted list."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"They put you into an induced coma as soon as you got here. You were already unconscious, but they were afraid that if you woke up too soon you could send your body into another shock...and you might not make it." She broke eye contact for a moment, as if it was too fresh a worry to ignore. "The serum makes you heal faster and it kept you alive, but it was also making your heart work overtime. I told them to do anything they could to make sure you stayed with us, even if it meant I had to watch you sleep for awhile."

Steve sighed gently, his rib cage aching. His heart hurt more, though. _Gosh, I love you. I love all of_ you. He clenched his teeth. _Could've done better, Rogers. Can't complete a mission without causing problems._ The soldier smirked, remembering the HYDRA agent he had met in the hallway. " _You don't deserve that shield." Yep. He was right._

"What's up?" she asked him, seeing his lips curve upwards for the first time since he woke up.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Where are we?"

"We're at an old, low-profile SHIELD base that everyone, including SHIELD, forgot about. Everyone here has either retired, resigned, or slipped off their radar. It's become a safe haven for those of us who don't really agree with the Accords." She saw his guard go up when the organization was mentioned. "Don't worry, Steve, I have personal connections with these people. We're safe here."

"Yeah, but for how long?"

"Nobody knows. But we don't have much of a choice. Your apartment's been ransacked, mine's been boarded up; besides, being out in public is too much of a risk when every eye in the country is looking for us. And if I unplug you, I don't know if you could ever fully recover." Sharon searched his face, reading his thoughts. "We have to stay put for awhile. We can't go after him yet. It's not safe for anyone."

 _This is insanity. This whole thing. I...can't...I have to. I have to stay calm._ He looked at his hands. "I know we can't. I just want to make sure he's okay."

"We all do. You told me he was a good man and I trusted you. I'll admit I doubted it when I saw what happened. But I couldn't be mad at him." Her voice softened. "He was more horrified than any of us. It convinced me more than anything you could have said. That's why I had to let him go; he was too upset to stay."

Steve nodded slowly and sunk his head back into his pillow. She smiled regretfully, seeing his frustration that he couldn't join his friends. She gently smoothed back his hair and gave him a light, sweet kiss. "I want you to be safe. It's all I've ever wanted since we met."

"I know, and I love you for it." He gave her a small smile, looking down at the hospital blankets, still starched and thin like they'd always been. "It reminds me of when I was a kid. Always getting into scrapes or getting sick, sometimes hospitalized for an asthma flare up. Somehow I always landed myself in one of these rooms. Had to miss out on a baseball game one time; another time, a school dance. Not that it mattered if I'd gone anyways, since none of the girls wanted to dance with a guy they might step on." He shrugged. "I was always tagging along with Bucky anyways."

"Well, those girls were missing out." She said it matter-of-factly, laughing when his cheeks reddened a little at her compliment.

"Y'know, they used to not let Bucky into the infirmary, so he'd have to sneak in when nurses weren't paying attention. He used to hide under the bed if any of them walked in and leave me candy when I wasn't supposed to eat anything." Steve cracked a grin. "He only got caught every other time."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder your mothers could keep up."

"Yeah, we were pretty bad."

"Well, we're all sharing that title now," she remarked.

They held each other's gaze for a moment, then Sharon gently put her head on the Captain's shoulder. "We'll find him. I promise."

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 **A/N:** **Well, you did it. You made it to the last chapter! Thanks so much for reading, I had a lot of fun writing this and you can save your death threats because I'm not finished with the story line yet! (Or maybe it's not as great as I think it is, and you're not that invested. I don't know.)**

 **I'm planning to write a sequel and some of the loose ends that weren't tied up here will be in the next installment.** **Hopefully I'll start posting chapters of that soon, once I have a real feel for where it's going. (I'm taking suggestions, please feel free to message me.)**

 **If you want to be updated about when the sequel is posted, you can either follow me, PM me about it, or comment for me to message you when it's up. As always, I love to hear from you, and reviews are always appreciated. ;)**

 **Again, thanks so much for all of your support, I love you all. :)**

 **~OnYourLeft107**

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 **A/N: There's an update, y'all! The sequel is posted! It's called Leaning On You; it's on my author page. Hope you enjoy and thanks again for reading! :)**

 **~OnYourLeft107**


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